


Tempus Edax Rerum

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-02
Updated: 2006-04-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: "Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism." "Memories, Dreams, reflections." 1962, ch. 12. Carl Gustav Jung. (03/08/2004)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: 1.25 "Two Days And Two Nights," 2.01 "Shockwave 2," 2.26 "The Expanse," 3.04 "Rajiin," 3.10 "Similitude."  
  
Translation of title: "Time, the devourer of everything." Joules' winner fic for the graphics contest (um, late, yes). She wanted Tucker/Reed, angst (I can do that!), Malcolm firing his phase pistol and actually hitting his targets.Ditto with Trip. Some sort of role reversal.Malcolm is usually the messed up one, the one that gets hurt, and/or the one that saves the ship. In quite a bit of the fic I've read recently Trip is a) comic relief, b) helping Malcolm get over "issues" or c) holding Malcolm's hand after Malcolm was wounded defeating the evil aliens. Maybe Trip could do some heroics of his own while keeping enough of his uniform to maintain a shred of dignity (or maybe not and that's where the angst comes from). (Sorry Joules, Malcolm overruled me on this point. Let's all sing "I fought the Mal and the Mal won!") In fanon Malcolm is always talked about as the one ready to give up his life, but really, Trip has done some remarkably rash and/or semi-suicidal things as well.  
  
Also, I know we have no canon for Enterprise doing two way real time communications with Starfleet while in the Expanse, but I took artistic liberties with that and with medical stuff. This fic was finished just after 3.15 "Harbinger" aired, and does not address anything that happend in the episodes after that.  
  
Betas: Elf (who also provided the title and summary); Leah; SueC; Red  


* * *

Malcolm found Trip in the launch bay, sitting on the decking next to Shuttlepod One, legs pulled up so his forehead was resting against his knees, arms around his shins. He was shaking, and Malcolm could see rivulets of sweat trickling down the side of Trip's face.

"Commander?"

Trip didn't respond, so Malcolm set down the tool kit he'd brought with him to work on Shuttlepod Two's targeting scanners and approached his friend. "Commander?" he asked, louder. "Trip?"

"G'way." Trip's voice was barely audible. He didn't even look at Malcolm, though the effort of speaking appeared to increase the tremors wracking his body.

Malcolm knelt on the deck, putting a hand on Trip's shoulder. "Trip, what's wrong?" He'd never seen his friend like this before, and it disturbed him.

Trip slowly raised his head, and Malcolm swallowed a gasp. Trip's skin was almost paper thin, stretched over his bones, and covered with sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, and they darted around in their sockets, almost unable to focus on anything.

"I'm dyin', Malcolm."

Malcolm's head snapped back as if he'd been hit. "Trip—"

Trip continued on as if he hadn't even heard Malcolm. "The Terillans—they killed me. They're just doin' it slowly. They want Enterprise, Malcolm, and they think they can get her if they kill me. Killin' me will hurt the cap'n and the crew, and they can come in here and take the ship. So they're killin' me and I'll be responsible for your death and the cap'n's death and Porthos' death and everyone else." Trip gave a short, humorless snort of laughter, then gasped for breath and shook harder. "The cap'n always said I'd be the death of him someday, whenever I did something incredibly dumb, but I don't think he meant it literally."

Malcolm kept his hand on Trip's shoulder, starting to understand. Enterprise had met the Terillans about two weeks before and, after some posturing, both sides had decided that trade was better than wasting ammunition. Captain Archer, Trip, Malcolm, and Hoshi had gone to the surface of Terillana to trade some of their more exotic foods for the dilithium the Terillans offered. The visit had been relatively peaceful, although Trip had had a bad reaction to the formal meal the Terillans had served. He'd left the banquet early to retire to the rooms they'd been given. Malcolm hadn't seen him until they'd left the next morning. Trip had still looked pale, although he'd insisted he was fine, he just wanted to get back to the ship.

"Trip, what happened," Malcolm asked with a calm he didn't feel, while reaching into the thigh pocket of his uniform to get his communicator. He wanted to get Phlox down to examine Trip.

"Y'know how I left that banquet early? They had someone waiting in my room—they'd spiked my drink." Trip took in a shuddering breath, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. "It was some sort of drug—a narcotic, Phlox says. The Terillan told me what they'd done, said they used me 'cause they knew I was close to the cap'n." Trip snorted again. "They got that wrong."

Malcolm was alarmed. "They forcibly addicted you to an alien drug?"

"The bastards were nice enough to leave me a vial of it to help with the withdrawal symptoms," Trip said with rancor. "The drug, I don't recall what their messenger said it was called, but it addicts instantly. Phlox has—" Trip stopped, curling in on himself and moaning in pain, shudders wracking him harder. Malcolm moved closer, instinctively putting his arms around Trip for support, feeling the violence of the tremors, the heat of the man's body as he tried to fight what the withdrawal was doing to him. Trip leaned into Malcolm when the shudders subsided, and Malcolm ran a hand through the damp hair, offering what comfort he could.

"Let me call Phlox," Malcolm said quietly.

"Yeah, that'd be good," Trip replied in a whisper. "He knows what's goin' on. I don't know if he's told the cap'n. Never asked."

Malcolm kept one arm around Trip as he flipped open his communicator. "Reed to Phlox."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Commander Tucker and I could use your assistance in the Launch Bay." Malcolm deliberately omitted the nature of the problem. Ever since the spy Rajiin had been on board, the captain required Hoshi and her team to randomly monitor all communications that originated from within the ship, whether or not they were on Enterprise equipment. It was a loss of personal privacy, as Lieutenants Hess and Child had discovered when their rather intimate conversation was picked for the random monitoring, but the captain felt it was necessary to ensure no Xindi agent was able to hide among the crew.

"I understand, Lieutenant. I'll be there as soon as I can. Phlox out."

Malcolm slipped the communicator back into his pocket, relieved that Phlox had apparently taken his meaning. If the commander's condition was not common knowledge, then Malcolm would not spread it around. Anyone monitoring the frequency would most likely assume that one of the two men had injured themselves when working on the shuttlepods.

"Phlox has been trying to wean me off the drug, or synthesize it or an antidote, but nothing's worked, and we're almost out of what the Terillans gave me." Trip was still whispering, still tucked against Malcolm. Faint tremors continued to course though Trip's body, and Malcolm worried that Trip wouldn't have the strength to make it to Sickbay under his own power.

"Why did they give you any of the drug?" The tactical officer in Malcolm asked that question, because he needed to know how the enemy thought. If he knew that, he'd be able to plan against them. The rest of Malcolm was desperately praying that the captain was unaware of Trip's condition. Two weeks had passed since Trip had been addicted. Two weeks where Captain Archer had carried on business as usual aboard Enterprise. Malcolm couldn't imagine that he would have done so if he had known—not after the incident with the mimetic symbiot Sim and Archer's oft-repeated mantra of "The ship needs Trip."

"Their agent, or whatever, said that they liked to give races a sporting chance, so if our doctors could find a way to make an antidote or figure out something to keep me going, then Enterprise would be safe. Otherwise, within 24-48 hours of me using up that vial, I would die." Trip coughed, and then winced in pain. "I got so mad, I attacked the guy. You'd have been proud of me, Malcolm. I got a few good punches in before his body guard turned up and stunned me."

"All that time in the gym paid off," Malcolm said with humor in his voice. Inwardly, he was wondering what was taking Phlox so bloody long.

"Yeah, it did. Anyway, the next thing I knew, the cap'n was pounding on my door, yellin' that it was time to go. I got up, pocketed the vial, and managed to make myself look somewhat normal before opening the door. Cap'n didn't look too happy, but he didn't say anything."

"No, but you did steal my infamous line." When asked how he was by a concerned Travis, Trip had told the helmsman he was 'fine'.

Trip chuckled with genuine humor. "It just fit so perfectly, though." He sighed and then whimpered as another tremor wracked him. "Look, Malcolm," he gasped when he was able to speak again, "do me a favor. Protect Enterprise when I'm gone. Don't let them get the ship."

"I won't, Trip. I promise. I'll kill every last bastard for you." He couldn't tell Trip that he wasn't going to die—it would be a waste of breath. Trip was convinced he would.

"I changed my will a while back, when the cap'n and I were on the outs. All I got goes to you. You're one of my best friends, Malcolm. You went with me to see Lizzie, you even forgave me for bein' so stupid on Risa. You can be a pain in the ass, but I'm glad you're my friend."

Malcolm just held Trip tighter when another tremor wracked him. Then Phlox was there, injecting something in Trip's neck. A few seconds later the tremors ceased. Trip unclenched and his muscles relaxed, but he didn't move from where he was tucked against Malcolm. Phlox ran his medical scanner over Trip, frowned at the display, and slipped a different vial into his hypospray. He pressed it against Trip's neck and within seconds the engineer was fast asleep. Only then did Phlox look at Malcolm.

"Lieutenant, I think we need to talk."

Malcolm looked at him coolly. "I believe we do, Doctor."

* * *

Malcolm stood by Trip's biobed, his eyes on the commander's face. He couldn't believe the change that had been accomplished by giving Trip even a minute amount of the drug. Within an hour, his almost skeletal appearance had receded, leaving his normal healthy skin behind. The sweating and tremors were gone as well.

Malcolm turned to Doctor Phlox. "How much of that drug is left?"

"Enough for a week, perhaps two."

"Does the captain know?"

"He does." Phlox's face was impassive.

Malcolm's left hand clenched into a fist. "Trip said you were working on an alternative or a cure."

"Yes, but I haven't been able to come up with anything that alleviates the commander's condition in simulations. I don't want to test them on him in case they exacerbate his condition." The doctor looked at his patient. "As long as he's taking the drug, you'd never know anything was wrong. But as soon as it wears off, it takes less than an hour for him to reach the state you found him in."

"How long will he have once the drug runs out?"

Phlox sighed. "I know the Terillans told him he'd have one to two days, but I honestly think that's being optimistic. The damage that's been done to his system already would probably result in death within twelve hours. Maybe less."

Malcolm reached out and carefully brushed a stray lock of hair away from Trip's forehead. "This past year hasn't been good to you, has it, Trip?" he asked rhetorically. Sighing, he turned to the doctor. "I would appreciate it if you would keep this conversation between us, Doctor. I have a few things to look into."

"What are you planning on doing, Lieutenant?" Phlox asked sharply.

"Nothing that will endanger Enterprise, her crew, or me," Malcolm said. At least, he added to himself, not at the moment. Although he did want to pound a certain captain into a pulp.

Phlox regarded him carefully before nodding. "Shall I inform you when Commander Tucker wakes up?"

"Please." Malcolm turned back to Trip and took his friend's hand, squeezing it carefully, before placing it gently on the biobed and leaving Sickbay.

* * *

Before Enterprise had left for the Expanse, a storage room had been outfitted into a command center, creating a central location for information gathering in their search for the Xindi. The Command Center was tapped into every system on the ship, making it almost a second bridge.

Also before Enterprise had left Earth, Malcolm Reed had been called into Admiral Forrest's office and given a special set of command codes—override codes for every system on the ship, codes that would effectively give him control of everything on the ship. Even the captain's codes couldn't override this set, he'd been informed.

"I'm giving these to you, Lieutenant, because we need someone on the ship who can take command in a crisis," Forrest had said. "To be frank, if Captain Archer is out of commission, Command isn't sure that Commander Tucker is the best choice to take over, given his recent loss of his sister. As Sub-Commander T'Pol won't be accompanying you, you're the next logical choice to take command." He'd handed the PADD to Malcolm. "I trust that you will only use these if absolutely necessary."

"Yes, sir," Malcolm had answered. At the time, he'd put the codes away in a secure spot in his quarters, confident that he would never need to use them. He hadn't, until now.

Malcolm didn't know if Forrest would consider this to be 'absolutely necessary', but Malcolm did. The captain had made a coded communication to Terillana not long after they'd left that planet, according to the communications log. The log was easily accessed by Malcolm as head of security, but the computer saved copies of all two way communications in a special location, technically only accessible by Starfleet Command. But they had given Malcolm their codes, and he was easily able to call up the file, have it transferred to his PADD, and get out of the location, erasing all signs of his presence in there. Starfleet Command might be able to determine he had accessed the file, but no one currently on Enterprise would.

Once back in his quarters, with the door locked, he plugged a set of headphones into the PADD and started the recorded message.

Eight minutes later, the padd was hidden in the false bottom of his locker where an unauthorized phase pistol was kept, and Malcolm was on his way back to the Command Center.


	2. Chapter 2

Phlox was in his office, making entries in his log, when the main Sickbay doors opened and Malcolm walked in. The Denobulan looked up and was surprised by the lieutenant's appearance. His face was set in hard, determined lines. He was also out of uniform. His shirt, pants, and boots were all black, fairly tight fitting, and no identifying insignia was visible.

Malcolm walked past Phlox's office to Trip's biobed and stopped, looking down at the commander with an undefinable expression on his face. He leaned down and murmured something in Trip's ear, one hand stroking the blond hair. Trip's eyes opened and he looked at Malcolm, slightly disoriented. Then his eyes widened and he reached up and grabbed the lieutenant's shirt in a fierce grip.

"No, Malcolm. I won't let you." His voice carried clearly to where the doctor stood.

"Trip, I have to. It's the only way," Malcolm soothed.

Trip shook his head. "I'm not worth it, Lieutenant. Let me die. We need you, Malcolm, more than Enterprise needs me. You're the only one who can get these Xindi bastards. Hess can keep the ship running."

"Enterprise needs everyone, Commander, and I intend to make sure she has everyone. You've never left a man behind, and neither will I." Malcolm's tone held a note of finality.

"This is suicide, Malcolm. Enterprise can't lose both of us. We can't afford that. We can afford to lose me."

"We can't afford to lose anyone, and we won't lose anyone, Trip. I promise, I am coming back." Malcolm took Trip's hand with his, still stroking Trip's hair. "I've spent too long figuring you out, remember? And I made a promise to help you avenge Lizzie."

Trip struggled to sit up, shaking his head to dislodge Malcolm's hand and grabbing it with his. "You can't do that if you're dead. If I'm dead, you can still avenge her for me. If we both die, then they'll get away with it." Trip swallowed. "I can't afford to lose any more friends, Malcolm."

Something passed between the two men, something that Phlox didn't understand, but apparently Trip and Malcolm did, as Malcolm smiled, a little sadly. "I can't either, Trip. If there's a chance to save you, I'll take it." His voice dropped to where Phlox could barely make it out. "I'm not suicidal, Trip. I know what I'm doing and I know I will come back from this mission with the antidote. So promise me you won't do anything stupid to stop me."

Trip set his jaw. "Lieutenant, I am ordering you—"

Malcolm shook his head and cut him off. "I already have my orders, Commander, and they come from a higher ranking officer." Malcolm leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Trip's temple, looking surprised by his actions as he pulled back. "I have to go. I will return, I promise." He pulled away from the other man and walked briskly out of Sickbay. Both Trip and Phlox followed him with their eyes.

"Doc, what is he doing?"

Phlox turned his patient. "I don't know, Commander."

Phlox suspected, however, that Lieutenant Reed was going to do what Captain Archer wouldn't—bargain for Trip's life.

* * *

"Sir, a shuttle is launching." Ensign Meyer announced in a shocked voice. The tactical officer looked to his captain for instructions. "It's the Suliban cell ship."

"Hail them," Archer ordered.

"I'm reading one human biosign," T'Pol commented from her station.

"I can't hail them,' Ensign Sato said. "They're jamming our signal."

"Use the grapplers," Archer said, coming to stand behind Ensign Mayweather at the helm. 'Keep us close to them, Travis."

"I can't, something is interfering with the navigation systems." Travis moved over at his console to where the grappling controls were. "Grapplers have been disabled, and I can't override them." Travis slid out of the way as Archer took over. He tapped in his command codes, and then looked up at the screen in disbelief.

"I've been locked out."

The cell ship on the screen disappeared from view as the unknown pilot engaged the cloaking mechanism.

Archer straightened up and turned to T'Pol. "Find out who that was," he ordered her. "Tell Lieutenant Reed to prepare for a prisoner if we find them, and tell Lieutenant Lane we may need to hold a court-martial."

* * *

Malcolm silently thanked Trip and Travis for all their hard work on the cell ship as he piloted it toward the location of the Terillan fleet. They were several light years behind Enterprise, staying beyond the range of Enterprise's sensors. Malcolm had presumed the Terillans would be following Enterprise to attack once Commander Tucker was dead, so he set a course away from the ship. The cell ship's sensors had picked up the fleet a half hour after Malcolm left Enterprise.

_Vultures_ , Malcolm thought as he neared the fleet. _Just waiting for Trip to die so they can pick us off._ Their actions didn't make sense to him—but then again, when did the motivations of alien species ever make sense by human standards?

Slowing as he neared the fleet, Malcolm left the cloak on and opened an audio channel. "Terillan Fleet, this is Malcolm Reed of the Enterprise. I am here to negotiate for the life of Commander Tucker."

* * *

Jonathan Archer couldn't believe the evidence that lay before him. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, the officer he depended upon to be rock solid and the last person to do anything rash, had stolen the cell ship, managed to lock them all out of the computers until a half hour after he'd left, and taken off. T'Pol had gone through his communication logs and quarters, and found nothing to indicate what Malcolm had been thinking. Doctor Phlox had been similarly puzzled, although he had been preoccupied with Trip being back in Sickbay.

Archer shied away from that thought. He'd done what he could the last time with the symbiot to preserve Trip's life. He couldn't afford to this time, not with what the Terillans had wanted. So he'd never mentioned to Trip that he'd spoken to them. He'd never said anything to Phlox either. If Phlox developed a cure or a synthetic drug, Archer would rejoice. If not, well, he couldn't afford sentiment out here in the Expanse.

Trip's life was important, Trip's friendship was important, but friendship couldn't get in the way of the mission. Negotiating for Trip's life could leave Enterprise and her mission vulnerable, and Archer would not do that. He'd worked too hard to gain the information he had on the Xindi. Turning over information could alert the Xindi to the fact that Archer had this information. Archer had no doubt that if the Xindi even suspected Archer had any details of their ultimate plan, they would alter those plans to ensure he couldn't stop them.

Earth was counting on Enterprise, and Archer needed all the advantages he could against the Xindi. He simply couldn't take the risk that his one major advantage could be taken away. Even if preserving the advantage could cost Trip his life. Trip had known the risks when he'd stayed on the mission.

Sighing, Archer reached for the com. He needed to speak with Lieutenant Lane, the ship's JAG officer as well as one of the computer engineers. She would have to determine if Lieutenant Reed should be court-martialed in absentia.

* * *

Qujanak, the admiral of the Terillan fleet, stared at Malcolm with a smug expression. Malcolm had been brought on board the flagship and escorted to the admiral's office soon after announcing his presence and mission.

"Why should we negotiate with you, _Lieutenant_?" He emphasized Malcolm's junior rank in a derogatory tone.

"I have what you want."

Qujanak snorted, an odd sound as the Terillans had no visible nostrils. "And what is it you think we want, Lieutenant?"

"Location of Xindi mines of xanthracite."

Qujanak slowly sat forward. "Your captain said he knew nothing about them."

"My captain may not have. I do."

Qujanak shrugged. "Why should I believe you? And why should I negotiate with you?" His eyes glanced behind Malcolm casually. "As far as I can tell, you're at a disadvantage here with no backup to protect you, on our ship. We can find xanthracite, but it's doubtful you'll find a cure for Commander Tucker. So I see no reason to negotiate with you." The admiral glanced behind Malcolm again.

Malcolm regarded him calmly, then turned and fired his formerly hidden phase pistol at the guard who had been attempting to sneak up behind him. The shot hit the Terillan dead center in the chest, dropping him to the ground. A few more shots, and the other guards in the room were down.

Malcolm turned back to Qujanak. "If you don't want to negotiate, I'll leave. With the coordinates, which are not contained on my ship's computer. Killing me will not do you any good, Admiral Qujanak. In any event, your agent told Commander Tucker that you liked to give species a fighting chance. Or were those just empty words?"

"Why should we trust you?"

"You can't. The same way I can't trust you. But you can't live without the xanthracite in your diet, and Commander Tucker won't live without the antidote or the drug." Malcolm looked calmly at the captain. "I believe we can come to an understanding—Commander Tucker's life for that of your species?"

Qujanak regarded Malcolm sharply, and then nodded. "Let's talk, Lieutenant."

* * *

"Captain, I cannot institute court-martial proceedings against Lieutenant Reed." Lieutenant Lane looked nervous as she stood before the captain's desk in his ready room.

"Lieutenant, the evidence is quite clear." Archer drummed his fingers on his desk.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "But I have received a Priority One communication from Commodore Beale at Starfleet Headquarters with orders to not institute any action against Lieutenant Reed until the Lieutenant himself returns to the ship." She swallowed. "Sir, I didn't contact Starfleet for advice. I don't know how they knew I'd been asked to look into this."

Archer waved off her explanation. "It's all right, Lieutenant." It wasn't, but he couldn't take his anger out on her. It wasn't her fault. "Dismissed."

The woman nodded and turned on her heel, leaving. Archer continued to drum his fingers on the desk top. Commodore Beale was not the type of department head to get in the way of his subordinate's investigations. Starfleet scuttlebutt had the Vulcans getting rather displeased, as much as they did, when Beale wouldn't interfere in an investigation that had resulted in an officer the Vulcans had been touting for command being drummed out of the service for conduct unbecoming. The Vulcans had believed his innocence, until the evidence proved otherwise.

So why was Commodore Beale ordering his officer to hold off on charges now. Archer frowned. Forget why, _how_ did Commodore Beale know that Archer would want to bring charges against Reed?

Archer considered the readout on his screen. The com logs didn't show that Reed had made any calls before he'd stolen the cell ship. His last use of the com system had been to Phlox, to inform him that Trip needed medical attention. Several hours after that, he had stolen the cell ship and disappeared.

Archer punched the com and ordered Ensign Sato to get him a connection to Starfleet Command. Hopefully, Admiral Forrest would be able to sort this out.

* * *

"I don't understand why you felt the need to negotiate with us in person, Lieutenant." Qujanak sat watching Malcolm, who was drinking from a water flask he had brought with him. Malcolm had declined all offers of Terillan food and drink. Qujanak had been amused by the refusals, but hadn't made a scene.

"It's a matter of trust, Captain. I don't trust you to send the right formula over subspace. All too easy to send something that looks correct but isn't. So many variables when creating an antidote, after all, and as your people did create the drug, it makes sense to have you synthesize the antidote."

"We could still give you something that we say is the antidote, but isn't."

Malcolm looked up, a feral smile on his face. "And I could give you coordinates that are legitimate coordinates, just not for xanthracite mines."

Qujanak looked at him sharply. "You would deceive us?"

"You deceived us with your offers of friendship." Malcolm's tone was flat. "To be honest, neither of us has a reason to trust each other at this point."

"And yet is appears we have to trust each other."

"It does appear so."

Qujanak suddenly smiled, causing Malcolm to tense. "Lieutenant, I must admit, I do appreciate having you as an opponent. Your captain was rather disappointing in that regard."

"He does seem to be ignorant of the finer points of tactics," Malcolm replied without a hint of guilt at disparaging a senior officer.

"It seemed as if his second in command's life was less important than the information. Astonishing, really, when you consider the bond between captain and second in command." Qujanak shook his head. "Captains and their seconds are closely bonded, are they not? Either through long friendship or relationships. My second is also my brother in law, through my sister, but we've known each other since we were children. Some captains and seconds are married to each other."

Malcolm paused in the act of taking another sip. "All of your captains have that close of a relationship with their seconds?"

"Of course. Don't yours?"

Malcolm shook his head. "No. Some captains don't even know their second in commands until they are posted onto their ship."

Qujanak looked startled. "Truly? How do they work together, then, if they have never met each other?"

"There can be some friction, but in general they do get along." Malcolm deliberately omitted the fact that Trip and Captain Archer had been friends for close to a decade before Enterprise even launched.

He felt chilled as he realized the close relationship between Terillan captains and their seconds was why Trip had been poisoned—when Trip had mentioned they poisoned him because of his relationship with Captain Archer, it wasn't that the Terillans had seen the vestiges of Trip and Archer's close friendship, but that they had viewed them in light of their own society. Malcolm was amused, internally. It seemed that all species had a tendency to assume that others shared their values and societal structure. However, another part of him wanted to destroy the Terillans for being so presumptuous.

"When will we get the coordinates?"

Malcolm looked up. "That is a good question. When will I get the antidote?"

Qujanak gave a small smile. "Let's be honest with each other. You do not want to turn over the coordinates until you have verified the antidote works. I don't want to turn over the antidote until I have verified the coordinates are accurate."

Malcolm sat back in his chair. "What do you propose then?"

"Something that will make neither of us happy. We exchange the formula for the coordinates just before you leave the ship."

"And if we find that the other was less than truthful about the goods?"

Qujanak shrugged. "I'm sure we will come after each other, weapons blazing."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly a comforting thought."

"But one more likely to keep both of us honest," Qujanak noted.

Malcolm nodded. "I find it acceptable."


	3. Chapter 3

"Why is Commodore Beale interfering in my command decisions?" Archer drummed his fingers on the desk as he addressed the screen showing Admiral Forrest's visage.

"He is interfering on _my_ orders." The static on the screen, a function of the distance and the Expanse, made it hard for Archer to see his superior clearly.

"Admiral, Lieutenant Reed has gone AWOL, stole the Suliban cell ship, and managed to lock the senior staff out of several key systems. That's clear grounds for drumming him out of the service."

"Killing another member of Starfleet is also grounds for a dishonorable discharge, Captain."

Archer stopped. "What are you talking about, Admiral?"

"I'm talking about your depraved indifference to Commander Tucker's life, Captain." Forrest frowned. "I expected better of you, Jon. Refusing to part with information you already have to save Commander Tucker. This after you've _already_ killed one sentient being to save the commander's life."

"This is my mission, Admiral —"

Forrest cut him off. "And Enterprise is under my supervision, Captain. None of her crewmembers are expendable in a mission like this. Yes, there will be some casualties, but this is not an acceptable use of that word. Lieutenant Reed, as the tactical officer, was under my direct orders to report to me if he saw evidence that the Expanse was creating a situation in which you might be unfit for duty. He reported this to me, and while I don't feel the need to remove you from duty, I did feel that Starfleet has a duty to Commander Tucker to ensure his survival. Lieutenant Reed was therefore acting under the orders of a superior officer when he left the ship, and that includes the order to not inform anyone else of his actions and to ensure that you were not able to prevent his mission."

"We're giving up valuable information here, Admiral —" Archer protested.

"Commander Tucker's life, or the life of any member of that crew, is more important than coordinates for mines. It's blackmail and it's despicable, but you would have done it in a heartbeat if this had happened a year ago."

Archer stared at the screen, knowing that Forrest was right, but refusing to back down. This was his ship, his mission.

"I usually stand by your actions while you're out in the field, Jonathan, but I cannot condone the murder of a Starfleet officer. Make no mistake, Jonathan, allowing Commander Tucker to die will be seen as murder by the rest of Starfleet Command." Forrest sighed. "Captain Archer, I am ordering you to drop your prosecution of Lieutenant Reed, and you are not to take any disciplinary action against him, or any retaliatory action against him when he returns to the ship. And you _will_ allow him to return to the ship, Captain."

Archer narrowed his eyes. "And if I refuse?"

"Are you refusing, or just asking a hypothetical?"

Archer thought for a moment. Allowing Reed to get away with this would undermine his authority on this ship, not something he could allow on this critical a mission.

"Yes, Admiral, I am refusing."

"Then, Captain Archer, you are relieved of duty and ordered to surrender yourself to Acting Captain T'Pol. I am sending her new orders to her now, to take command of Enterprise until such time as Lieutenant Reed returns and Commander Tucker recovers." Archer could see Forrest tapping on the padd embedded in his desk.

"I thought you said no crewmember was expendable," Archer reminded him with a touch of sarcasm.

Forrest looked up. "No crewmember is expendable, but when a crewmember acts in such an irrational manner as to endanger the lives of other crew, well, the good of the crew as a whole is more important."

"Admiral, the importance of this mission—"

Forrest cut him off again. "The importance of this mission means that the crew needs a captain they can believe in. Not a captain who callously lets his chief engineer die."

"This is a mistake, Admiral."

"No, Jon, the mistake is how you have handled this matter. No matter how this ends, you realize that you have damaged, possibly irreparably, your relations with two of your senior officers, not to mention your chief medical officer. If they no longer trust your decisions, you can be damn well sure the rest of the crew will pick up on that. I don't think you want to be the first Starfleet captain who has his crew mutiny." Forrest sighed. "Go see Commander Tucker, Captain. That's an order. See what your decision is doing to him, and then tell me that his life is not worth what Lieutenant Reed is doing. I'll delay relieving you of command until you've seen him, but you know me, Captain. I will not hesitate to enforce that order. Forrest out." The admiral's face dissolved into the Starfleet logo, leaving Archer alone in his ready room.

* * *

Malcolm stood inside the airlock where the cell ship was docked with the Terillan vessel. He held a padd with the coordinates of xanthracite mines in his left hand. Qujanak stood in the hallway of his ship, just on the other side of the hatch, a vial in his left hand.

"We will keep our end of the bargain, Lieutenant. This antidote will cure your Commander." Qujanak held out the vial.

Malcolm held out the padd. "This contains the coordinates to three xanthracite mines, as we agreed."

Both men took what the other proffered. Then Malcolm took a step back into the cell ship, shutting the door. He slipped the vial into a padded case he had open on the deck, then started up the ship's engines and moved away. Just before he went to warp, he activated the cloaking device. No sense in letting the Terillans follow him back to Enterprise and perhaps stop him from reaching the ship before he could turn over the antidote.

Of course, they would be busy decoding the coordinates he had given them. Malcolm wasn't the type to leave things to chance—he had encrypted the coordinates in complex code. It would keep the Terillans occupied until Malcolm was on Enterprise and Trip was cured. Malcolm wasn't taking chances there, either. He'd left a small homing device on the lead ship to ensure he could find them again if they'd lied to him.

The navigation console beeped, warning him that he was nearing Enterprise. Malcolm straightened up in the pilot's chair, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. It was time to face the consequences of his actions. He knew, though, that he had not had a choice. Trip's life was too important, to the ship and to Malcolm, to let him die.

* * *

Dr. Phlox was waiting at the door of the launch bay. "Were you successful?"

Malcolm held out the vial and the doctor took it. "I'd test it before I used it on Commander Tucker, but I suspect you know that."

Phlox smiled as he and Malcolm hurried to Sickbay. "I did, but I do appreciate the reminder. Do you think they would have given you a placebo?"

Malcolm followed the doctor through the doors to Sickbay. "I don't want to take chances with Commander Tucker's life."

Phlox nodded as he began the process of analyzing the liquid in the vial. "This may take some time, Lieutenant. Might I suggest that you wait with the commander?"

Malcolm nodded and headed for the curtained-off biobed. He stopped with his hand on the curtain. "What about the captain?"

Phlox turned to look at Malcolm. "The captain came by to see the commander an hour ago. He wanted to speak with you after Commander Tucker recovered."

Malcolm nodded, and then slipped behind the curtain. Trip was asleep, his skin pale, but it wasn't the paper-thin skin he'd had in the launch bay. Sitting down in the chair at his side, Malcolm took Trip's hand. He brought it to his lips, kissing it. "I have faith, Trip. Just hold on for me."

* * *

Jonathan Archer paced his ready room, automatically ducking the ceiling beams. Malcolm had been back on ship for two hours, but there had been no reported change in Commander Tucker's condition. Jon wouldn't put it past Phlox to delay letting him know, if only to give Malcolm more time to decide what he would say. Of course, Phlox might not know that Malcolm would have the upper hand in the conversation. His actions had been sanctioned by Starfleet, and even blessed by the Vulcan High Command.

Jon knew that should tell him something—perhaps that he was letting the weight of the mission get to him. Hell, the Expanse could be getting to him, making this decision to kill his best friend over some coordinates.

Sighing, he stopped, resting his forehead against a beam. He hadn't had time before to consider what might happen if Trip lived. He'd been operating under the assumption that Trip wouldn't live, and even if he had, he wouldn't know that his captain—his best friend—had stood by and done nothing.

He'd expected Trip to die, only the doctor would be the wiser as to Jon's actions. But now Lieutenant Reed knew, and Starfleet Command knew, and Jon didn't think it would end there. Even if they got out of the Expanse alive, Jon's career as a captain would be finished. Oh, Command would probably promote him to Admiral, put him in a desk job, and keep him around for appearance's sake. But he'd never command a ship again, never be in a position to make this mistake again.

Straightening, Jon sighed. He'd better follow his orders regarding Malcolm, and then ensure Enterprise got through this mission and prevented the destruction of Earth, without losing any more crew, if he intended to salvage anything of his reputation with his superiors—and repair the damage he'd done to his friendships with Trip, Malcolm, and Phlox. He needed those friendships to remind him that there would be a life after the Expanse.

* * *

"Lieutenant?"

Malcolm raised his head from where it had been pillowed on his arms. He blinked sleepily at Doctor Phlox, noticing the vial in his hand. Memories rushed back, and he sat up straight. "Doctor? Is it—"

Phlox nodded. "My tests indicate this should cure the commander of his addiction. I don't anticipate any side effects, either. I was just about to administer the antidote to Commander Tucker."

Malcolm turned his head to look at Trip, who was lying on the same biobed that Malcolm's arms had rested on. Trip's last dose of the drug was wearing off, judging by the slight tremors running through his body and the beads of sweat on his forehead. Malcolm stood and brushed Trip's hair back gently before turning to nod to the doctor.

Phlox slipped the vial into a hypospray and pressed it to the side of the commander's neck. It was a few minutes before the tremors ceased, and the temperature readout on the biobed display dropped. Phlox studied the readouts as Malcolm studied Trip, still stroking his hair. He looked better, but Malcolm knew that this could be just another temporary reprieve. Time would determine if Trip was cured or not, if he didn't have another withdrawal episode. Malcolm also knew that the damage done to Trip's system by the drug would have to be repaired, another long journey for his friend. Trip might not ever be the same cheerful, healthy man that Malcolm had met so long ago. But Malcolm would not give up on Trip, no matter how difficult it got.

Trip stirred on the bed, his eyes opening. "Malcolm?"

Malcolm smiled. "I'm right here, Trip." He leaned down. "I'm back, and Phlox has already given you the antidote." He reached for Trip's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's working, Trip."

Trip nodded. "Yeah, I feel...different than when I took the drug." He drew in a deep breath, then looked straight at Malcolm. "You could have been killed, Malcolm."

Malcolm nodded. "I know, Trip. But you would have been dead if I hadn't done anything, and I couldn't let that happen."

Phlox patted Trip's hand. "Your vitals are improving, Commander. I'm encouraged. You still need to rest, however, and you are off duty until further notice." He smiled. "I'm sure Lieutenant Reed will keep you company for a while," he added, before nodding at them and heading toward his office alcove.

"The doctor's right, you do need rest," Malcolm said, leaning down to brush his lips against Trip's forehead. "I doubt you'll have an easy recovery, but I promise to stay with you during it."

Trip nodded, smiling slightly. "I'll appreciate that, Malcolm. More than you know." He pulled up the blanket with his free hand, wiggling a little to get comfortable. "I'll make you a deal," he said.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What sort of deal?"

"I'll get some rest now," Trip began, a little of his usual sparkle in his eyes. "If you let me kiss you, later."

Malcolm searched Trip's face, seeing only seriousness behind the sparkle. He smiled and leaned down to kiss Trip on the lips. "I'll hold you to that promise, Trip. You can bet on that."

Trip smiled and closed his eyes, giving in to sleep. Malcolm pulled his chair closer to the bed, his hand still in Trip's, and rested his head on his arm, content to watch Trip sleeping.


End file.
